There's Something I Need to Tell You
by Elizabeth Anamon
Summary: Sandal. Sequal to Killer Nightmars. Greg tells his mother the truth about his job, but will Sara stay in the dark about the way she saved his life?


**Title There's Something I Need to Tell You**

**Summery Sandal. Sort of a sequel to Killer Nightmares. Greg tells his mother the truth about his job, but will Sara stay in the dark about the way she saved his life? **

**Rating T**

**Comments I got a lot of good reviews so I thought what the heck. Written after the holidays, but takes place before. Keep that in mind.

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_"Perhaps now would be a good time to come clean." -Grissom_

Greg had slept fairly well after his conversation with Sara. When he woke up, he showered, got dressed, went into the kitchen and popped a frozen burrito in the microwave for breakfast, just like any normal day in his life. He had almost forgotten that only six hours ago, he had tried to kill himself.

He had done everything last night. He made an early new year resolution, he had confessed his love to Sara, and he had come to terms with the events that lead up to all of this. But one thing he had not done, and that was put the gun away. As he sat down in that same recliner, he noticed the unloaded 9mm on the table beside his chair. His stomach twisted as it all came rushing back, crashing into him like strong wave on a rocky coast and knocking the breath out of him. He remembered what he had almost done, as well as what he had promised himself to do. He groaned out loud, grabbed the gun and returned it to its rightful place, hidden, in the pouch on the side of his chair.

Greg heard the microwave beep, signaling him that breakfast was ready. Somehow, he didn't feel like eating anymore. Besides, he had a phone call to make. He rummaged through a pile of papers on the table by the chair, looking for his list of phone numbers.

"Another resolution for the new Greg Sanders," he said to himself, "Get organized!"

He finally came across a wrinkled paper with random phone numbers scribbled on it. In the to corner was "Mom 555-9057." With the paper in his hand, he picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and slowly dialed the number. _You can still hang up. You still have the option of leaving her blissfully in the dark_ he thought. Then he heard the dial tone, and every muscle in his body tensed. He had passed the point of no return.

"Hello." He heard the sweet, elderly voice answer. Mom.

"Hay mom,"

"Oh, hello, sweetie, I haven't heard from you in a while. How has everything with you?"

"I'm fine, Mom. How are you?" Greg asked, prolonging the agony a little while longer.

"I'm still holding up. I've been planning Christmas with your Aunt Katie, and I'm about to crash. I was going to call you today and ask if you were coming home for the holidays this year."

"I'm not sure yet." Greg closed his eyes and braced himself. It was time. "Mom,"

"Yes, dear?"

"There's something I need to tell you. Do you remember the promise I made about my job?"

"You told me you would stay in the lab and off the field where you could get killed."

"Yeah, well, I… I'm so sorry, Mom. I broke that promise. I'm working in the field. I'm a CSI."

There was a long pause on the line. "How long?" The woman asked.

"About a couple years. I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would be scared and worried and I called you because I couldn't lie to you any more. I never meant to hurt you, Mom. I'm so sorry."

For a moment, perhaps…yes, the longest single moment of his life, neither of them said a word. Then Mrs. Sanders broke the silence with the one thing he hoped she would never, ever ask. "What made you decide to call me now?"

Suddenly Greg felt a sharp pain on a single spot in his side. Pain memory response. " I got hurt." His mother gasped, and Greg quickly added, "I'm fine now, it wasn't that serious," he stopped to relate the instance of the night he had been "hurt."

Again, his mother did not seek for a minute. "Greg," she said with a slight crack in her voice, "I love you. And I'm very, very proud of you."

"You're not angry?" He was surprised.

"I'm upset that you didn't tell me before, but it took courage to tell me, and to save that man's life. I couldn't ask for a better son." Greg's mother began to cry. "I have to go. I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom." He said, and hung up the phone.

He had thought that coming clean would make him feel better, and in a way it did. But he also felt sick. No sooner had he hung op the phone then he heard a knock at his door.

He got up and went to answer the door. When he opened the door, the sick feeling went away. It was Sara.

"Hey, Sara." He greeted cheerfully. "Come on in."

"Thanks." She said and stepped inside the apartment.

Greg closed the door. "Have a seat on the couch," he offered.

"Actually, I just came to say a few things. First of all about last night, am I right to worry about you?"

And so returned the sick feeling. "You were. But you don't have to now. I'm fine now that we know the truth. I really do love you, Sara."

"I love you too, Greg." She said, and kissed him on the lips.

"Sara, last night, before you called, I was…"

"You were what?"

"I was feeling , I don't know what he word for it is, really. Lost. Alone. I needed you last night, Sara. When you called, it was perfect. And now that I don't have to hide my true feelings any more, you'll never have to worry about me again." He took hold of her shoulders, pulled her in close, and kissed her.

He had almost told her about his suicide attempt, but she would have only cried for him, and he didn't want that. After all, some things are better left unspoken. He would keep that as his on little secret, for everyone needs one. He would never tell a sole. Not ever.

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**So that's that. Review please. **


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